Welcome To My World
by MysteryMadness
Summary: It is the summer between Harry Potter's fifth and sixth year of Hogwarts, and he receives an owl from Hermione holding a desperate plea for a place to stay for two months. Now it's her turn to endure the Dursley's toxic presence. H/Hr Rated T just in case
1. A Plea for Help

**A/N:**

**So this is my first attempt at a fanfic. I've had the idea in my head for a while now. I hope you like it, and I hope it's not too slow! I tend to be a little wordy…**

Gah. The summer holidays. Every year they come around, yet every year I seem to dread it more. I honestly don't know how I ever survived living here at number 4 Private Drive 24/7 back when I was 10. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Sure, I guess that a lot of things have transpired since then. I had gone to a different school, gained friends – oh, and there also was the little thing of finding out I'm a wizard by a giant bearded man and facing the man who killed my parents, Lord Voldemort on several occasions. I'm sure that would have a little _something_ to do with the complete alienation I felt about my days of being bullied by my cousin, Dudley.

I had completed five full years of Hogwarts now. I couldn't believe that I had only two more years left to go. The thought of leaving Hogwarts made my chest constrict convulsively. Beyond Hogwarts was just a vast abyss. I knew that I wanted to be an Auror, but the words of Dolores Umbridge kept ringing in my ears, telling me that it will never happen. As much as I hated to use my name to gain me acceptance, I was _Harry Potter_. Surely that counts for something in the career of Defence against the Dark Arts? I mean, the Ministry-

The Ministry. No, don't think about it. Don't think about him. Don't think about Sirius.

…Sirius.

My heart still ached for my late godfather, the closest thing I ever had to a father. Every time that I though about him I felt a deep pang from within. It was not something that I enjoyed dwelling upon. I wasn't going to cry. Of that I was certain. No one would see me cry. Ever since that breakdown in Dumbledore's office I had just bottled it up. As much as I would like to, you can't change the past.

To redirect my thoughts away from Sirius I thought of my two best friends, Ron and Hermione. Whenever I thought of them, my heart swelled with love for the two of them. Over the years they had really gone the extra mile, sticking by me through everything. I couldn't imagine my life without them.

With my mind flooded with happy memories of my friends, I hear a sharp _tap tap_ at my window. Rolling off my bed and taking a moment to regain my balance, I opened the latch on the window, and felt a gust of warm, Summer's night air as a magnificent tawny owl glided into my room. Puzzled, I approached the bird. I wasn't expecting any letters from anyone – Sirius was dead, the rest of the Order were busy tracking down Voldemort, and I had seen Ron and Hermione only a week ago as I had departed the Hogwarts express.

Looking down at the neat, tiny handwriting on the front of the envelop, spelling out the word _Harry _it struck me that it was Hermione that was writing. My confusion deepened. I opened the letter.

_Harry,_

_I understand that this is incredibly short-notice, but I have quite a big favour to ask you. You see, my parents are going out of town for the rest of the holidays – well, actually, they're going to France, which isn't exactly next door. _

_My point is, that I need a place to stay. I know that the Weasleys are going back to Egypt this Summer, so I can't stay there. I understand that your relatives are difficult, but maybe if I'm there, they'll be on their best behaviour? _

_Again, I'm so sorry to have to ask, but I'm fairly desperate. Also, I kind of have to have a place to stay by this Thursday, hence the lateness of this owl. _

_I'm so sorry, Harry! _

_All my love,  
>Hermione.<em>

I blinked. Well, this was a revelation. Something I never would have expected to deal with. I loved Hermione and would be ecstatic to have her keep me company, but I lived with… well, the _Dursleys_. They made blast-ended skrewts look friendly. I worried about how they would treat her – like something stuck on the bottom of their shoe probably. Or worse, they would treat her how they treated me! No, that would be impossible. They had spent a good fifteen years working up to their level of hate for me. To think that they would treat her the same way as they treated me was absurd… I hoped.

I looked at my alarm clock, the red numbers eerily glowing and reflecting against my window. It was 1.08am, no time to negotiate with Vernon (or as I liked to call him, Satan's younger brother). I guess there was nothing for it but to try and convince them to let her stay tomorrow morning. Oh boy, there's something to look forward to.

And with those thoughts, I drifted into a troubled sleep full of nightmares of the Dursleys chasing poor Hermione down Magnolia Crescent, beating her over the head with my firebolt.

The next morning came far too fast for my liking. The early morning light glaring through my window, flickering across my face. I sighed, there were no excuses left now.

I cautiously descended the stairs and entered the living room with Hermione's note in my slightly sweaty hands.

"Uncle Vernon?" I asked tentatively.

He was instantly suspicious of my abnormally hesitant tone. Or maybe he had forgotten what I looked like, seeing as I had kept to my room so much these holidays.

"What," he grunted rudely.

I winced. This was exactly the kind of behaviour I wished to spare Hermione.

"Well… I, um. I wanted to ask you a favour?"

His piggy eyes narrowed further.

"You see, I have this friend, Hermione. She's really nice and grew up around muggles, so she knows how to act… normal," I had almost said 'like you lot', "so I don't think you would have a problem. Actually, you would probably really like her!" ok, so I was stretching the truth a little here.

Uncle Vernon said nothing, instead glared at me with contempt. So what's new. I guess my point hadn't sunk in. Great, so I would actually have to say it.

"I was wondering if it would be alright for her to stay here," I said rapidly, "it's just for the rest of the holidays and she had absolutely no where else to go."

Vernon's face masked that of shock. He couldn't believe I had just asked him that. Well, I couldn't believe I had asked it either. I suppose this is the one and only thing we both shared beliefs on. Go figure.

"You want this… Herman girl… to stay _here_?"

I guess he needed confirmation for that simple fact. Sometimes the simplicity of his mind astounded me.

"Her name's Hermione, and yes."

"I see."

And with that, he marched out of the room, barking 'Petunia!'.

I sighed and sunk into the couch. I knew this was coming. They never decided on anything big like this without consulting each other. I respected that, however, respect didn't stop me from being annoyed. I drummed my fingers on the arm of the couch in boredom. No less than ten minutes later, both Vernon and Petunia appeared at the doorway, looking grim.

"We have decided," Vernon began with an air of the melodramatic, "that this Herman can stay."

"W-what? Are you serious?" I couldn't believe my luck. They had said yes?

"Though, she must stay in your room – _on a mattress on the floor_," he added dangerously, "I'll have no _funny business_ in my house thank you very much!" he looked a little uncomfortable at this point, and Aunt Petunia beside him looked downright embarrassed.

"-It's not like that!" I spluttered, "She's just my friend!"

"Whatever, whatever… the point is that _nothing_ will happen between you while she's here, and the same rules that apply to you, apply to her. Be home before Dudley, don't get in the way, don't act abnormally."

And with that, they exited the room, leaving Harry in a kind of stupor in their wake. Hermione was coming to stay with him. For another two months.

Holy crap.


	2. And so it begins

Chapter 2:

Thursday had arrived in the blink of an eye. I paced the floor, wearing a hole into the perfectly spotless carpet. I can't believe she's coming.

I wasn't the only one panicking at the prospect of another magical person inhabiting this house. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were sitting nervously in the living room, fidgeting with their clothes. Dudley was nowhere to be seen. Apparently the ton-tongue-toffee incident hadn't been forgotten. If he wasn't so annoying, I would probably feel bad about the emotional scars I had undoubtedly left him over the past five years. However, as it was, he _was _annoying.

"H-how is she getting here, then?" Uncle Vernon demanded with slight trepidation in his voice.

"Her parents are dropping her off on their way to the airport," I answered, having memorised Hermione's plans from her reply to my 'yes' I sent a couple of days ago.

I could understand my Uncle's probing. It was only a year ago that another one of my magical friends visited number four, and that didn't exactly leave a glowing impression of wizards on the Dursleys. It had started with half the living room being demolished due to complications with the floo network, and had ended with Uncle Vernon pelting ornaments at Mr Weasley's head after Dudley had almost choked on his oversized tongue. Not a moment I liked to remember.

Just then, the doorbell chimed.

"That's her," I said as I went to let her in.

As I opened the door, I saw Hermione wave her parents goodbye as a silver Mercedes drove off into the distance. Then she turned around and saw the door was open. I was immediately engulfed in a mass of bushy brown hair as she flung herself at me in a hug.

"Oh, Harry! It feels like I haven't seen you in ages! How are y-"

Hermione was cut off by a large _hem hem_ coming from behind us, reminding me unpleasantly of our last year at Hogwarts.

We both turned around to find both Vernon and Petunia facing us in the hallway, Dudley had even made an appearance, peaking from around the door to the kitchen. What followed was a very awkward silence, broken only when Hermione stuck out her hand in a valiant effort to break the ice.

"Hello, my name is Hermione Granger," she smiled, "thank you so much for letting me stay here. Mum and Dad were just so eager to get to France, and I had _so _much school work to get done I just couldn't go."

More silence.

"So, I take it you're Mr Dursley, you're Mrs Dursley, oh, and you must be Dudley, am I right?"

I had to hand it to her, she's braver than I had thought. Many people had endured the Dursley's cold shoulder and she was coping a lot better than most of them.

"Call me Vernon, and this is Petunia. We're happy to have you."

My mouth fell open, and I didn't even care how stupid I looked. The Dursleys and civil just didn't go together in the same sentence. That's just not how it works. To say I was dumbfounded would have been an understatement to say the least.

"Thank you," she said in a relieved kind of way. Clearly she thought very highly of first impressions and it was important to her for this to go well. I thought she had passed with flying colours.

"I'll show you to where you'll be staying," I added.

I grabbed her school trunk while she grabbed a suitcase and we both made our way slowly up the staircase before turning into my rather small bedroom. On the floor there was a mattress set up with clean, white sheets, making it seem even smaller than it used to look.

"Sorry," I apologised, "It's not very big…"

"Harry, it's perfect considering I thought I'd have to be home alone for the rest of the summer. Now that just wouldn't be fun."

"And you think this will be fun?" I asked sceptically.

"I think as we're both here together, than yes. It shall be very fun."

With that I grinned. Clearly the poor girl had no clue what she was in for.

"Just wait, you only know a very small part of the Dursleys. Just wait until Dudley hasn't eaten due to his strict diet for a few days, or if you accidently dirty the kitchen floor, oh, or if you mention the word 'wizard' around them. _Then _you'll see what I see."

"I'm sure I'll manage." She said simply. "We've battle Voldemort himself together, Harry, surely we can tackle a few short-tempered muggles?"

"Don't count on it," I muttered softly. Hermione giggled.

"Ok, so I put my stuff here?" She asked, indicating the small mattress on the floor.

"Don't be stupid, you have the bed. If you're going to be here living in a clean version of hell, than the least I can give you is the bed."

"Harry, don't exaggerate. And I can't take you're bed"

"It's yours."

"But, I don't wa-"

"It's yours."

"Harry, I really don't thin-"

"Its yours, Hermione. Deal with it."

And thus our holidays began.


	3. The Wrong Idea

**A/N**

**I can't believe the amount of people who added this to their story alert! It's really amazing that you guys like it. You make me smile. **

**And to the person who pointed out that it would actually be 2 years ago that the Weasleys came to number four, yes your right. Sorry! That's my bad!**

**Hope you like my version of Harry and Hermione, they are a little different and as its Harry's POV and the books are third person, I'm trying to figure out how Harry thinks. **

**Oh, also – I know that in these holidays, Dumbledore comes to pick up Harry – that won't happen in this one for the sake of the story, I would have made them younger so it could work out, but I thought it would be much more interesting for them to be older. **

**Thanks for the reviews! Keep 'em coming!**

Chapter 3: The Wrong Ideas

I wake at the sound of a soft scream and felt something land on top of me. I opened my eyes to find Hermione sprawled on top of me. Well, this was different.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry! I have a double bed at home and I guess I'm just too used to it"

"S'right," I said groggily, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

We were both beginning to struggle to regain a more appropriate position, when possibly the worst thing that could happen, did happen.

Dudley walked in.

Merlin, Murphy's Law's a bitch.

"Mum said-"

He cut off as he took in the scene before him; me, laying on the mattress with Hermione on top of me, both of us frozen in the shock of having being caught in such a compromising position. Dudley spluttered and turned a deep shade of purple that would have made his father proud.

It looked bad

It looked _really _bad.

"No, Dudley, its not wha-"

With a slam of the door, he was gone.

"Oh dear' Hermione said with a shocked expression on her face.

Blushing slightly, we disentangled ourselves and she sat on the bed, I on the mattress once more.

"Ahh, he'll get over it," I said, breaking the silence while waving my hand through the air in what I hoped was an entirely blasé way. This was hopeful thinking in the extreme.

"You don't think he'll tell your Uncle and Aunt, do you?" Hermione whispered, tears in her eyes at the prospect of being kicked out after just one night at the Dursleys.

"No," I lied to spare her feelings. Of course he would tell the Dursleys. He tells them everything, and I mean _everything_. I remembered back to all of those times I pretended to use magic on him back when they didn't know it was banned while outside of Hogwarts. Not a time went by when he didn't run to Petunia. Why would this be any different? I thought Hermione realised I had lied – she turned an even paler shade of green.

"Well, I guess we'd better go and face the Hitler's down there."

"Harry, you really need to stop exaggerating like that. I'm sure they love you… Deep, _deep_ down."

I snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Well, I suppose you're right, in any case. Staying up here all day will just make their suspicions worse. Just wait a second while I go and change. The bathroom's…"

"Just down the hall, first door on your left."

"Right, I'll be back soon."

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione and I made our way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Hermione was nervous, however I was beside myself. I knew this was going to be the shouting match from hell. Hermione had never had to suffer the wrath of the Dursleys, and this was one hell of a way to introduce her to it.

I took a deep breath before I walked into the dragon's lair, then, stepped through the threshold with Hermione in my wake.

"Good morning." I thought starting off with a positive note might just soften the blow a little.

Uncle Vernon just grunted, not even immersing from his paper. Aunt Petunia didn't say anything at all. Hermione began to shake beside me, assuming that this was the Dursleys way of dealing with anger. I knew better –they dealt with anger with _blood_. Metaphorically, I thought. Or perhaps I hoped.

"Righto, then." And with that I dragged Hermione out of the room by her arm before she had the chance to apologise.

"They don't know!" I hissed as soon as we were out of earshot of them. "Dudley didn't tell them. Trust me, it wouldn't have been as peaceful in there if they had. We'd both be getting the one-millionth degree."

"They… don't… know?" she seemed to say this to herself hesitantly, as if not being able to believe her luck. "So… what do we do?"

"Just go upstairs. I'll grab something for us to eat and we can just have it up there. It's like Antarctica in there, even without them knowing. Seriously, I think I saw a penguin."

Hermione chuckled. "Ok, Harry. Met you up there."

Once she had disappeared from sight up the stairs I rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bowls, a box of cereal and a carton of milk. The Dursleys had finished their breakfast, so I doubted they would even notice. Well, Vernon wouldn't notice, but you couldn't get anything past Petunia. Once I had the goods, I dashed upstairs and knocked on Dudley's door, placing the food at the foot of the door.

"Dudley, I want to ask you something," I began. I was determined to get to the bottom of this. It was just so unlike Dudley to do something that would benefit _me_.

"What," he grunted. Oh, he was _so _like his father.

"It's about what you saw – what you think you saw - a little while ago in my bedroom, it was nothing. But why didn't you tell Vernon and Petunia? I don't understand…"

Dudley cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I… I didn't think it was anything."

Dudley may be a good bully, but he was no strong liar.

"Dudley, come on. Just tell me. Believe me, I'm thankful for it. But I just have to know why you did it."

"Are you, and that… and that Hermione… um… _together_?"

"What! No. Not at all. She's just a friend!" I shouted, waving my arms in front of me to indicate that he had the completely wrong idea.

"Oh."

Silence.

"Um… Dudley… is there any particular reason as to why you care?" I asked hesitantly, not sure if I wanted to know the answer.

More silence. And then.

"She's… she's not bad looking… I guess." Dudley blushed.

Yep. I _so_ didn't want to know the answer.

"You mean you fancy her?" I didn't mean to sound so incredulous. But the thought of Dudley liking any girl, let along a witch, struck me as a completely alien idea.

Dudley nodded.

"Well, ok then, I guess." What was I supposed to say at this most awkward revelation? My cousin liked my best friend? Just throw in the fact that she was a witch and he came from a family of stubborn witch-haters and you have the recipe for absolute disaster on your hands.

"Don't say anything!" Dudley screamed, his face a mask of complete terror.

"I promise I won't, Dud."

And with that, I stumbled out of the room while having an almost outer-body experience.

Until then, I had never seen Hermione in any kind of romantic light, but I attempted to see her from Dudley's point of view. I knew that she was super smart, funny and the most loyal friend a person could have, but now I tried to see her in a light other than the girl I met in my first year at Hogwarts. She was… beautiful, I suppose. Her thick, brown hair framing her pale face, emphasising her deep, brown eyes and rosy red lips. Her slender body had developed since the eleven-year-old girl she had once been. Her shape now curved at the waist and her stomach had tightened considerably. Her personality had changed too, it wasn't just her looks. She wasn't just that goofy girl she used to be. She had matured, sophisticated, during the last couple of years. I remembered being shocked when I discovered the pretty girl in blue accompanying Victor Krum to the Yule Ball was in fact Hermione. She had looked so different there. Her deep, brown eyes. Her tinkling laugh. Her smile. Her lips, parting slowly as she read a piece of parchment…

A warm feeling was growing inside my chest as I thought about the young woman Hermione had become. She had changed, changed into something beautiful, remarkable. To me, I suppose she was more than a friend. A sudden thought struck me. When I was being possessed by Voldemort just a few months ago, I recalled thinking of my friends to drive him out. I remembered my heart swelling with the love for my friends along with the grief of the loss of Sirius. I thought back to what ran through my mind while love enveloped me and I realised that I was thinking of her. I was thinking of Hermione at the moment I was sure I would die. I was thinking of her, and loving her.

_Loving _her?

I _loved _her?

This notion struck me just as I opened the door to my bedroom, carrying the cereal in with me. I saw her, Hermione, sitting on my bed and a weird, tingling sensation erupted along my spine. I couldn't peel my eyes off of her beautiful face. Not even for a second.

Ok, I guess I loved her.

Things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.


	4. Breaking down a Barrier

**A/N**

**Hey! So basically I'm trying to upload these as quickly as I can! I know how frustrating it is to find one then have it just stop abruptly. Talk about annoying. Although my exams do start in a couple of weeks, so I may not be uploading them as frequently as I'd like, but I'll do my best! **

**I'll admit that I had issues writing this chapter, but I hope that it turned out alright!**

**By the way, I hope that the Harry loving Hermione bit isn't too mushy. To be honest, I have no idea how guys think (as I am a girl) so I was doing my best to convey that. Sorry if some of his thoughts sound girly. **

**Thanks for all the positive reviews! Love you guys!**

_**Chapter 4: Breaking down a Barrier**_

So I was in love with her. No big deal, right?

Who was I kidding?

This changed everything. Things that never would have occurred to me before started popping into my head now. Like, has she got enough food? Is she feeling ok? What did she mean by that stroke of the arm? _Does she love me too? _

Wait, stop it. She's your friend. Just go back to how you treated her before. Innocent friendship, remember?

Unfortunately, this was a lot easier said than done.

All I could do was compartmentalise my love for her. Just bottle it up. Merlin knows, I've had practice at that! I'll just add it into the draw right next to the one marked 'Sirius Black'. There we are, nice and neat.

A week passed in this manner. Hermione did seem to notice that something was different, but she never mentioned it. We mostly spent our time doing homework, walking around Little Winging together, exploring the muggle world that I had never ventured to, and just spending time in each others company in my room. We never left each other's sight. This made it a lot more difficult for me, as there was no possibility of getting her out of my mind. Everywhere I looked, there she was in all her perfection, a constant reminder of my love for her. The 'Hermione Granger' draw rattled constantly, threatening to burst out of his sealed place. I could not let this happen.

I hadn't forgotten about Dudley and his 'liking' of Hermione. Strangely, though, I did not feel at all threatened by him. Hermione had never showed any interest in Dudley (thank Merlin, I hoped her taste wasn't as bad as that) and didn't see him at all throughout the week, except in the occasional meetings in the hallways of Number Four. To be honest, I didn't know what quite to do about it. Of course, I hadn't mentioned anything to her, and I didn't plan to.

I was surprised by the Dursley's cooperation with Hermione. They had, of course, acted rudely towards her during the family meals, however, they did not show her the level of inhumanity that they showed me almost every day. For this I was grateful. Hermione did not deserve that. She was flawless, she only deserved the best.

But no. I could never tell her that I feel this way. It just wouldn't work. We're _friends_. Good friends. I wasn't about to jeopardise that on the off-chance that she just might love me back. She had never shown any appearance of loving me. She acted towards me as she always had. _I would not screw this up._

Again, who was I kidding? Of course I would.

It happened exactly twelve days after Hermione's arrival. We were sitting in my room, finishing off our essays for Herbology on the proper uses of Bobotuber pus.

"Harry," Hermione asked abruptly, "I was wondering… you don't have to talk about if you don't want to… but I was wondering… if you wanted to talk to me about… well, about Sirius?"

Silence. Not because I was cold-shouldering her, but because I thought my throat had closed up. The truth was, no, I didn't want to talk to her about him. I thought it was bound to ease the tightly sealed 'Sirius' draw in my mind.

I cleared my throat. "Um, actually, Hermione, I would prefer if we didn't. I'm just not there yet."

"Ok, Harry. I'll respect your wishes. But remember, if you ever need to talk about him – about anything – then I'm here for you. Remember that, ok?"

It was too much. The unearthed grief over Sirius mixed with my admiration for Hermione was too much to hold onto. I didn't have the strength to keep them both under wraps. I couldn't help but let my grip slip on one of the draws, causing it to burst open, exploding out all the repressed emotion I had been carrying for Merlin knows how long.

I broke down in tears.

"Oh, Harry, what's wrong?" Her voice was alarmed.

Hermione had never seen me like this. Hell, no one had ever seen me like this. I was not a crier. It's just not what I do. To say it was mortifying would be a gross understatement. I couldn't believe I was _crying _in front of her. If I wasn't so occupied with the consuming grief over Sirius, then I would have felt sorry for her. No one deserved to see me break down like this. No one.

I shuddered as the tears streamed down my face.

A barrier had been broken between us.

Hermione's POV:

Harry was sitting before me, crying as if his life depended on it.

"Oh, Harry, what's wrong?"

My voice was alarmed. I had never seen Harry cry like this before. I don't think I had ever seen him cry. Not once, and Harry had endured many things before.

I flung my arms around his shoulders and rested my head on his neck, trying to comfort him. For some reason though, this seemed to make him convulse more violently and tears streak down his face faster. I didn't understand what was happening. Harry was normally not an emotional person. He didn't let anyone see what was really going on inside his heart. It was like a barrier had been broken down between us. He was letting me see what no one else could see. He was confiding in me his deepest secrets, his darkest thoughts.

If I weren't so heart-broken at seeing him in this state, I would have been honoured.

A memory flashed back at me. It was the end of our fifth year at Hogwarts, and Dolorous Umbridge had Harry cornered, threatening to used the cruciatus curse on him. The idea of Harry going through that kind of pain hurt me more than I could say. I couldn't bare it. I would rather go through that myself than have him go through it. I had to stop it. And so I was the only one to shout out against her. He was about to take it, he wouldn't tell her anything. His bravery was unfathomable, I had never imagined anyone to have that much chivalry. That moment had defined me. I realised something from that day.

I was in love with Harry Potter.

Since then I had hidden it the best I could, sure that my feelings were in vain. We were friends. That was it. But I had to admit that it was part of the reason I chose to go to the Dursleys this summer. Sure, they were rude and cruel… but it was where Harry was. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see him at every moment of every day. I guess I didn't have my feelings as under control as I had thought.

Harry's POV:

I couldn't believe I was still crying. It was so embarrassing. I guess I didn't have my feelings as under control as I had thought.

**A/N**

**So there you go. Hope the different POVs weren't too confusing. I basically wanted to show that Harry and Hermione's thoughts are in-sync, even without them realising it. **


	5. Meet the Family, Miss Granger

**A/N**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter, I only play in it. **

**By the way, this chapter is an entirely Hermione point of view one. I thought it would be interesting to write her impression on Number Four. **

**Sorry it's a little long. There was so much to write!**

_**Chapter 5: Meet the Family, Miss Granger. **_

Three weeks have passed since I first arrived on the doorstep of Number Four Private Drive. It was… an interesting place. I don't think that Harry's relatives have said more than two words to me the whole time I have stayed here and I couldn't figure out why. They were _related _to Harry, weren't they? You'd think that that would account for some kind of decent behaviour. But no, every time I entered the room, it would be chill city. I wondered if this was what it was like for Harry. One day after a stone silent breakfast, I just couldn't help but ask him.

"Harry, are your relatives always so… talkative?" I asked hesitantly, unsure of whether I was stepping on anyone's toes.

He snorted, "Yeah, I'm afraid all they know is 'hello', 'goodbye', and 'clean the dishes'. Welcome to my world," he smiled. As he performed his half-grin, my heart went into overdrive. How did he _do _that?

"Oh… how have you put up with it for so long? Every summer?"

He shrugged. Again, his quiet suffering astounded me. How could someone so good have to deal with so much pain? I instantly regretted not defying Dumbledore's orders last year, and just sending a letter anyway. He would have been so lonely.

"You get used to it, I guess."

His voice was cavalier, but his eyes told a different story. If I didn't know him so well, I probably would have been convinced. However, I knew his every expression, even when he's trying to hide it. To try and convey my sympathy subtly, I tapped his shoulder lightly, ignoring the feelings that touching him brought up for me.

I suppose that Harry and I were the closest we'd ever been. We had been living in such close quarters for three weeks now, and our friendship had solidified considerably because of it. Of course, that also meant that my feelings for him had also strengthened, but I was getting better at hiding them now. Or, at least, I hoped I was.

However, the Dursley's coldness was not the only bad thing about living at Number Four. There were certain… awkward situations that tended to arise every now and then. For example, just yesterday I was hopping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around me as I went when the bathroom door opened.

Dudley walked in.

When he saw me he blushed a deep shade of red, but seemed unable to move. He stood, rooted to the spot and I cleared my throat pointedly. I didn't want to be rude and shout at him to get out, no matter how they had treated me. However, the sound seemed to bring Dudley to his senses. He gasped, and then bolted out of the door, slamming it behind him. I would never understand boys.

I recounted to story to Harry later, trying to figure out why Dudley had acted so awkwardly.

Harry laughed and brushed it off, saying something like 'Dudley doesn't really see a lot of girls. He goes to an all-boys school'. But I saw something in his eyes harden as he said this. It was a strange encounter.

It got to the stage where I didn't have much homework left to go, so I took to puttering around the house, looking for things to do. I discovered that Harry was a late sleeper, whereas I was most definitely an early morning riser, which meant I had the whole morning where I didn't quite know what to do with myself.

One Tuesday morning, I was roaming around the house when I spotted Petunia out in the garden, tending to her flowers. Although it was early in the morning, it was already 38oC outside in the summer's sun (A/N… I'm Australian and don't know the deal with Fahrenheit – sorry!)

Vernon had already left for work and Petunia seemed to be having trouble de-weeding a particularly stubborn bulb. Taking pity on her, I decided to approach her and help her out. As badly as they treated me, I was still a guest in their house. I mean, they were feeding me at least. I knew that Harry would say something along the lines of 'don't poke a sleeping dragon', but I couldn't just leave her out there to struggle on her own.

"Um… Petu- Mrs Dursley?" I announced hesitantly, "Do-Do you need a hand at all?"

Petunia blinked up at me, her eyes squinted against the sun's rays.

"I… suppose."

I kneeled down before the garden bed and got to work on the bulb that had given her so much trouble. Without the use of magic, it took a good five minutes to loosen, then dislodge from the ground. Sweating slightly, I held up the weed triumphantly.

"Got it!" I declared.

Petunia looked at me from the other end of the garden bed, where she was watering the agapanthus with a small, silver watering can. She didn't say anything, but I thought I saw a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

I got back to work, pulling out weed after weed, the sun beating down on the back of my neck where my hair was pulled into a messy bun. It was hard work, though it felt strangely satisfying to be doing something after three weeks of confining myself to Harry's room and just talking. The physical labour was exhilarating, in a way.

After twenty minutes of silent work, I decided to test the waters a little more.

"Mrs Dursley," I began, "I was wondering why you decided to let me stay here. I mean, I could tell that Harry was doubtful you would. Don't get me wrong – I'm really glad you did! I was just confused as to why…"

I broke off, praying to Merlin that she didn't take offence.

"Because." She snapped, attacking the garden with anger.

"Oh… Okay." So I shouldn't have said anything… I got it.

Five more minutes passed in silence.

"Would you like to come in for some lemonade?"

I stared at her, unsure of whether she had really just said that. Her features had softened and she looked at me sincerely. The complete 180 had unnerved me.

"Uh. Sure."

I didn't quite know what to think of this. Harry would tell me it was a ploy of some kind, but I just didn't think it was. Of course, even if I _did _think it was, what could I do? I had to accept.

While in the kitchen, Petunia pointed to the sink, which had soap on the edge of it, clearly implying 'clean up'. Harry had told me his Aunt's obsession with cleanliness, so I complied immediately.

She then indicated that I sit down at the table while she busied herself with getting two glasses and a jug full of icy lemonade from the fridge.

As she put down the glass in front of me, Harry walked in, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He froze as he took in the scene in front of him. Then, he shook his head as if to clear something from it and backtracked out of the room and up the staircase again. From his expression, I assumed he had probably thought he was having some kind of bizarre dream.

"Thank you, Mrs Dursley," I said politely. The truth was, I was rather touched by this gesture. It showed she was at least trying to get on good terms with me. Why, I wasn't quite sure.

"Call me Petunia." It looked as though the words had slipped out of her mouth, as she looked as though she had uttered something dirty.

"Ok… thank you, Petunia." I smiled shyly at this. Looks like there was a side to Petunia that even Harry hadn't seen before. We had made progress.

After a slightly awkward glass of lemonade in which Petunia looked around at everything apart from me, I heard Vernon's key enter the front door.

"Petunia, I'm home. Is there something for lunch? I only have an hour to spa-"

He stopped abruptly when he saw me, sitting at the table, an empty glass in front of me and Petunia sitting opposite me.

"I'll just… go." I added after a shocked pause.

I retreated into the living room and decided to pass the time looking at the pictures on the mantelpiece. There were about a dozen of a little Dudley all staring back at me out of their frames. However, there was absolutely none of Harry. It was like he didn't even live in this house.

I turned around at the sound of loud, thumping footsteps. Vernon had appeared at the doorway, looking fairly angry. For what reason, I was unsure.

He walked closer to me so that I could see the purple veins popping out of his temple. Harry had warned me about this. Apparently at this point, I should run.

"How _dare _you!" he hissed vehemently in my face, spraying me with spittle.

"How _dare _you come in this house and act like you're normal, like you're one of us. You know what, Petunia's view of you doesn't change anything. You might had put some God-forsaken spell on her to allow you to wrap your little finger around her, but by God, I won't let you do that to me. You got that? You-you _freak_. If I had my way, I would rid the world of the lot of you. You're filthy! A disgrace to the world!"

He stood before me breathing harshly, his face a shade of purple I believe had never been seen before.

"Firstly," I said calmly, trying to keep a reins on my anger, "You're not the first person call me, what was it? 'filthy'. I have been called that by magical people as well, except that was for being born as a muggle," I thought of my encounter with Draco Malfoy back in the second year. He had called me a 'Mudblood'. This was doing exactly the same thing, but in reverse. "So I am getting used to it. The problem is that I don't care what you think of me. That is who I am, it is how I was born. I can't change it, even if I wanted you. The sooner you accept that, the better."

And with that, I stormed out of the room, leaving a spluttering Vernon behind me.

Once I had reached the top of the stairs, I began to break down in tears. Being hated for who you are is not right. By hating on me like that, he was hating on my very essence, my very being. I had tried to ignore comments like that ever since the Malfoy incident. My appearing upset had ended with Ron vomiting up slugs in Hagrid's cabin. I vowed to never get visibly upset about someone hating who I was again. Guess that thought's kind of moot now, isn't it.

I stood in the hallway, trying to quiet the sobs that kept hitching in my throat. That was when a door to my right opened, and Dudley immerged from his room, a curious expression upon his face.

"Hermione? Are-are you alright?" he asked, quite stupidly really. He had just asked a sobbing girl in the hallway if she was alright. What did he think? She just liked to cry?

"I'm… I'm fine." I answered, not wanting to bare my soul to this stranger. What I really needed right now was Harry. He always knew how to cheer me up.

"Here, come inside." Dudley indicated to his room. Not wanting to be rude, I nodded reluctantly and entered.

It was a lot larger than Harry's. There was a plush double bed in the corner, rows upon rows of bookshelves housing anything but books. There were toys of every kind imaginable. A state-of-the-art computer was set up on a polished desk in the corner. The contrast between this room and the room I currently occupied was incredible.

"Sit." Dudley ordered. I complied, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"What's up?" He asked, not in a gossipy way, but in an almost sweet way, his facial features quite tender.

"Nothing." I answered. How could I tell him that it was his father that had upset me?

"Come on. It's not nothing just tell me."

"It's nothing, Dudley."

"Hermione…"

I looked up at his change of tone. He looked worried for me. The difference between the person before me and the person Harry had warned me about shocked me so much that I accidently told him everything. I told him everything that Vernon said to me. I told him what had happened in my second year. I told him how hard it had been for me to deal with not knowing where I belong. Not knowing whether I should be proud of the witch inside of me, or the muggle inside of me.

Dudley just listened, nodding and looking sympathetic as I rambled on. Once I had reached the conclusion of my story, he placed a hand on my shoulder and said-

"Hermione, my Dad's an arse."

I blinked.

"He's got it all sorted out in his mind. He can't deal with things like this. He has to control everything, but magic is something he just can't understand, so he fears it. That fear normally leads to his shutting anything to do with it out completely. My Mum's similar, but she will at least give people the chance. He won't. Seriously, just ignore him. He's not worth it."

It may sound weird, but his words had actually struck a chord in my heart. Who knew that Dudley could be so comforting?

I placed a hand upon his shoulder and said, "You know, Dudley. You're not a bad person."

At that moment, Harry walked in. He took in the scene around him and again, shook his head as if clearing it and stumbled backwards out of the room. Poor Harry, I thought, he was having such a bad time sorting out reality.

'He seems to be doing that a lot today," I observe aloud.

"Yeah, I guess it must be a little weird for him to be seeing someone like him getting along with us. It's never happened before."

"Well, Dudley, I'm glad that I've had this talk with you"

"Me too, anytime you need it."

And with that I stood up and left the room. As I closed the door behind me, I saw something glimmer in Dudley's eyes – triumph? Hope?

I walked back into mine and Harry's room, seeing him lying on his mattress staring at the ceiling.

"Oh, hello," he said, "Y'know, I just had the _strangest_ dream…"

**So what do you think? Please review!**

**I'm afraid that I most likely won't update anymore for another couple of weeks – as much as I try to convince myself that writing these chapters are good practice for the creative writing section of my exams, I take six other subjects to think about. Stupid exams!**

**So sorry about it! I promise, as soon as I have spare time, I will post them up all day and all night. **

**Happy reading! Feel free to personal message me about any queries or problems with my stories. I take everyone's feedback into consideration – good or bad. **


	6. Regrets

**A/N **

**Sorry I've been so negligent lately guys! Just finished my school term (and year as I'm in year 11!) which was absolutely CRAZY busy. But now I am on holidays with very little to do – expect many updates! **

**Again, thanks for reviews, they make writing a whole lot more fun and worthwhile, you guys make my day.**

**Basically, this chapter is an entirely Petunia POV on chapter 5, so I hope you're not confused by the back-tracking-ness of it all. Ahh, the beauty of the fanfic world, you can make up wonderful words like 'back-tracking-ness' and just not give a damn. **

**Shout out to my sister for giving me the idea to do this!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine… sadly… **

_**Chapter 6: Regrets**_

It was a normal Tuesday morning for me. I began the day by doing my usual twice-over clean of the kitchen and then took to the garden to sort out some of the more stubborn weeds.

As I was working on a particularly wedged bulb in the ground, the Granger girl peered nervously out of the doorway.

"Um… Petu- Mrs Dursley? Do-Do you need a hand at all?"

I blinked. The girl was clearly terrified of me, but I could see a kind of earnest in her eyes. A genuine want to help people. Something about her facial expression seemed so familiar to me, though I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"I… suppose." I replied in a tentative voice, still unnerved by the sudden feeling of déjà vu that came upon me.

Granger kneeled down and started attacking the bulb I had been working on. I moved down to the other end of the garden bed, whilst continuing to glance back at her every now and then to try and figure out _why _she was so familiar. Had I seen her before? No, that was impossible. I didn't associate myself with _those _people. The only reason I agreed to let her stay was because when Vernon informed me of Harry's request, I was having one of my moments of guilt. Every month or so I would be struck with such remorse over my treatment of Lily, it was then that I usually allowed Harry what he wanted, much to my husbands utter disgust. He didn't understand. The last piece of correspondence I had ever received from my sister I had callously thrown away. No more than four days after that, she died. Whereas I thought of her as a freak of nature, I had never forgiven myself for not being closer to her, she was my sister after all.

My thoughts were interrupted by Granger's triumphant 'got it!' as she pulled up the bulb. I looked over at her and it finally hit me why she looked so familiar.

As I looked into her almost childlike eyes and satisfied grin, I was taken back to that summer's day many years ago. Lily had shown me how she could make a flower grow and shrink back down again in the palm of her hand. The look of glee in her eyes then matched Granger's now. That's when I realised – _this girl reminded me of Lily. _

Now that I saw that, everything about her was similar. The way she walked, the intelligent and kind way she spoke to people, her joy in accomplishment, no matter how great or how small. This girl was almost exactly the same as Lily, and if it weren't for her looks, I could have mistaken her for my little sister.

I couldn't help but smile a little as the nostalgia washed over me. For the next twenty or so minutes I kept working with thoughts of Lily and my regrets fresh in my mind.

"Mrs Dursley, I was wondering why you decided to let me stay here. I mean, I could tell that Harry was doubtful you would. Don't get me wrong – I'm really glad you did! I was just confused as to why…"

Well, what was I to say to that? Because I was so filled remorse that I couldn't help but say 'yes' to the son of my dead sister who I constantly treated atrociously? Oh yes, Petunia, what a great conversation starter!

Instead, I went with the only other approach I knew.

"Because." I snapped at her. Instantly I regretted my harsh tone, I saw Granger's – Hermione's eyes lose their light a little, just like Lily's had whenever I insulted her.

It took me five minutes to work up the courage for what I knew I must do, but which went against everything I had believed in for the last twenty years.

"Would you like to come in for some lemonade?" the words felt strange to even say.

"Uh. Sure," she replied, a confused expression upon her face.

We walked into the kitchen. I pointed immediately at the sink – no matter how many new leaves I turned over today, that was not going to be one of them.

I got a couple of glasses and jug of lemonade from the fridge and placed them in front of Hermione as she sat on the table. As I did so, Harry walked into the room, then quickly backtracked. His messy hair and bewildered expression reminded me very much of that James person whom Lily had married. He too seemed like a carefree and joyful person. I only met him once (and that did _not_ go well!) but from that occasion, I could often liken Harry to him.

"Thank you, Mrs Dursley," Hermione said with a smile.

"Call me Petunia." I was shocked. I did not mean to say that, it just kind of slipped out.

"Ok… thank you, Petunia." She smiled shyly at me, reminding me yet again of my sister.

After a slightly awkward pause, I heard Vernon enter the house at his usual lunch hour. Before I could rearrange the scene to look a little less incriminating, he walked into the room. He glared at Hermione, sitting in front of her empty glass. I saw the poor girl shake and splutter out, "I'll just… go."

After Hermione had left, Vernon rounded on me.

"What the _hell _is going on here. First, you make me allow _her_ to stay here. In _my _house, under _my _roof. And now, I see you here, _bonding _with her!"

He spat the words out as if they were poison, his beady eyes narrowed with disgust.

"What is _wrong _with you?"

And with that he stormed out of the room following where Hermione had gone. I crept softly over to the living room door and peaked in to witness the event.

"How _dare _you!" he spat at her, "How _dare _you come in this house and act like you're normal, like you're one of us. You know what, Petunia's view of you doesn't change anything. You might had put some God-forsaken spell on her to allow you to wrap your little finger around her, but by God, I won't let you do that to me. You got that? You-you _freak_. If I had my way, I would rid the world of the lot of you. You're filthy! A disgrace to the world!"

As Vernon called her a 'freak', I looked closely at Hermione's expression. Yes, there it was. That same hurt face that confronted me on that day on platform 9 ¾ all those years ago. The face of Lily now stared back at Vernon.

And like Lily, that hurt resolved into a fierce anger that Lily held so well, and only drew when absolutely necessary.

"Firstly," she said calmly, "you're not the first person call me, what was it? 'filthy'. I have been called that by magical people as well, except that was for being born as a muggle, so I am getting used to it. The problem is that I don't care what you think of me. That is who I am, it is how I was born. I can't change it, even if I wanted you. The sooner you accept that, the better."

And with that, she stormed out of the room; I hid to the side so she wouldn't see me. Just before she vanished from sight on the second floor, I heard a soft sobbing sound and I knew she had succumbed to tears. Just like Lily.

I walked into the room that Hermione had just vacated. Vernon was still standing there, breathing heavily and the purple slowly fading from his cheeks.

"Why did you do that?"

I was now hissing at him. I didn't quite know why I was doing it, I just knew that I saw my sister in here again today. I wasn't going to let her be treated the same way again. Not by me, not by my husband, not by anyone.

"Petunia, what are yo-"

"I'm not finished!" I snapped, a rage had come over me that I never knew existed. "You cannot, do you hear me? _Cannot_, talk to her that way."

And with that, I was the second person to storm out on Vernon that day, leaving him looking bewildered in my wake.

That was it. I was done playing this game that my whole family had been playing. I would not treat others like I used to, especially _her_, that girl who had so changed my perspectives on everything. That was it.

No more regrets.

**A/N **

**So what do you think?**

**This chapter was pretty much for me – to get me back into the swing of things after so long a hiatus in between. So I'm sorry if it seems a little stilted at times, it was occasionally hard to write. **

**Let me know what you think of my Petunia!**


	7. Authors NoteChallenge  please read

**A/N**

**So, I have a little challenge for you guys, mainly because I'm kinda stuck for ideas, but also because I want you readers to have some input… **

**I've written the chapter where "feelings" (and no, I would not like to elaborate on that – spoilers!) are revealed, but I want more things to happen in between now and then, so if you guys want to, feel free to personal message me with any ideas or situations you want any of the characters to get into. I'll write the ones I think will go well with the story. I do have a couple of ideas that I will be working on, but again, they will crop up later on in the story. **

**And remember, the sooner I get messages, the sooner I can post another chapter!**


	8. United

**A/N**

**Thanks so much for all of your suggestions! It's really helped and I'll add a few of them in later chapters with an acknowledgement of the name who gave me the ideas. **

**This one is something that I had in my head a while ago. I would have liked to put it later on in the story, but I think here is good enough. It's a bit shorter than normal, but it has another part to it. **

**Another Harry POV (I have been neglecting poor Harry lately!) **

**Hope you enjoy! Review please! **

_**Chapter 7: United**_

It has been a week since I've started seeing the changes in Hermione. In the way she acts around the Dursleys, her tentative smiles at Petunia, her skin turning pale around Vernon, and a strange look of comfort whenever she was around Dudley. It was strange to see, and I couldn't figure out what exactly had transpired between the lot of them to make her act so differently.

I had tried asking her about it once a few days ago, but she just turned a bright shade of pink and turned her head away, mumbling incoherently. Not wanting to push it and pressure her, I let the subject drop. However, over the past week I have been closely monitoring her and the Dursley's behaviours to try and work it out. One thing I was sure of, was Dudley was in on it – he knew – and that knowledge mixed with his clear progress with Hermione is what pains me the most. To see that she had confided something to him, rather than me, hurt my very essence of being. I felt rejected for my own cousin.

One day, after watching Hermione as she almost choked on her food when Vernon entered the room, I decided that enough was enough. While Hermione was in the shower, I marched over to Dudley's room to demand the information on what had happened.

I knocked loudly and harshly on the door, not caring about the survival of either my knuckles or the wood. I was in too much of a rage to care about such minor things. All I knew was that Hermione was upset about something, and it was something she obviously didn't want me to know. That told me that it must have been something bad.

Dudley answered the door with a confused, and slightly scared expression on his face, clearly as a response to my mutinous features. I didn't utter a word and just walked into his large room.

Once Dudley had closed to door behind me, I rounded on him.

"What happened with Hermione" What did you do to her? What did _they _do to her? Is she alright? Why didn't she tell me?"

The words came out extremely fast, joining together in places. Dudley had to work a while before he was able to decipher what I had just said.

"I-I don't think she wanted you to know, Harry. I'm not sure if I should tell you."

Harry simply stared Dudley down, putting as much rage evident on his face as he possibly could.

"Ok! Ok!" Dudley said, putting his hands in front of him in a defensive position. I was pleased that I could gain that much of a response without saying anything. "So basically, Hermione and Mum have bonded-"

"_Bonded?" _Harry spat, bewildered.

"Yes, and don't ask me on the details, because I don't know them. I just heard crying coming from the corridor about a week ago and went to see if everything was alright." He raised his eyebrows as if to question my acceptance so far.

"Alright, alright, I believe you. Go on."

"So I saw her crying and I asked what was wrong. After a while, she eventually told me that Vernon had rowed with her. Well, more he screamed at her, really. He was saying things like how she's 'filthy' for being a witch and how he hated having her in his house. Oh, and he called her a 'freak' too… Then she said that it had made her feel really bad, and mentioned something about a Malloy…?" Dudley scrunched up his face as he tried to remember.

"Malfoy?" I suggested, remembering in second year how he had called Hermione a 'mudblood'. I didn't know what it had meant then. I wasn't so innocent now.

"Yeah! That was it. How this Malfoy made her feel as bad as Dad did."

I was shocked. If it was on the same level as something Malfoy would do, then it must have been bad.

"Did she say anything else? What did you say?" I was desperate for information. I could feel the anger rising up within me, and I knew I wouldn't last much longer before I had to do something about it. I just wanted to make sure I knew every little detail before I pulverised Vernon into next week.

"Nope. That's all she said. I told her that Dad was an arse, that he couldn't tolerate anything different from his own, personal, controlled, little world he has going for him. To be honest, I was so so angry at him… I wanted to hit him…" Dudley trailed off, a far away look in his eye.

This confession brought me up short. Dudley wanted to hit his father? And the apocalypse is when?

"Dud… I don't know what to say," I began honestly, "Well, I hope you can get used to just having one parent, because I think I might go kill your father now." The calmness of my voice shocked me. I supposed that I was far past pure rage now that my body didn't quite know how to handle it. I couldn't accept that Hermione had to handle that by herself. Where was I? What was I doing? I wanted to protect her, and yet I had no idea what was going on. My rage and guilt mixed together to create an emotion I had never known before. I was going to _murder_ Vernon.

"Are you serious?" Dudley said with an excited gleam in his eye, "Please – Please can I come too?"

"What?" I exclaimed. If there was anything I thought I would never hear in my lifetime, it would be Dudley siding with me against his father.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to do it a week ago, but I didn't want Hermione to think badly of me or anything, so I held back. But now, if you're doing it, I want to help!"

Everything in my being wanted to say 'no, Dudley, you certainly can _not_ help me with this!' But that was just my jealous side shining through. However, my rational side saw this as a perfect plan. I knew that Vernon would most likely not listen to a word I said, he was used to my outbursts. Dudley, however, had never said as much as a word against his parents (unless not enough birthday presents had been brought) so the impact of his words would have a much bigger effect.

"Well… I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but yes. Dudley I would love your help. Thank you."

Dudley's face split into a magnificent grin.

"So…we do it now?" he asked, his face glowing.

"Might as well." I concluded.

And with that, the most unlikely duo marched down the staircase, our expressions unfathomable. I led the way, pulling my wand out of my back pocket as I went.

**A/N**

**So what do you think? I'm hoping to upload the second part soon – I have to write it first, but I know what I want to happen, so it shouldn't be too long. **

**Please review! **


	9. Confrontations

**A/N**

**See how quickly the updates come? Seee? Seeeeee, I told you they would!**

**So, this is basically from a few points of view. I hope it doesn't get too confusing for you guys, but I know how smart you all are, so I know it won't. **

**As I don't actually say what Harry says to Vernon, I just say something like, 'he continued shouting…' just use your darkest imagination to supply the dialect there. Hehe, it should be fun. **

_**Chapter 8: Confrontation**_

We made our way down the staircase, heading towards the living room, where we could hear the Six O'clock news blaring from the television set.

I rethought my rash decision to take out my wand. I knew that I wouldn't be able to stop myself, and would most likely hex Vernon into an oblivion. With that in mind, I put my wand back into the pocket of my jeans. If I performed such magic, I would probably be expelled – or arrested – depending on how well I express my feelings.

We marched into the room and spotted Vernon sitting like a sloth on the sofa. He narrowed his eyes in my direction, but upon seeing Dudley standing behind me, his seething expression changed to that of confusion.

"YOU!" I screamed, jabbing a finger in Vernon's direction. "What the _HELL _is your problem?"

And with that, the screaming match had begun.

I yelled as loud as I could until my voice felt hoarse and I was sure the neighbours could hear my every word. Dudley didn't say much, he just nodded fervently at my sentiments. He stood like a strong, stone pillar, supporting me and keeping Vernon from retaliating. His presence was clearly the main source of discomfort for Vernon – he was used to me yelling at him and dealing with me, but the involvement of his precious son knocked the brutality out of him, he couldn't raise his voice to him, just as he could never say no to Dudley when he was a demanding child.

After a while, I couldn't even remember what I was saying. It was as if another person had taken over my body, someone full of rage and fury. For a moment I was reminded of last year, when Voldemort would take over my body and fill it with rage. But I knew that this was different – this was a different, more pure kind. As much as I hated to admit it, these statements were coming from my heart. I was baring my soul as I had never bared it before.

The shouting continued into the night…

I was doing my usual pre-dinner clean of the kitchen, when suddenly I heard an angry voice screaming "YOU!" from the living room. I could immediately recognise the voice as Harry's.

Wanting to investigate, I timidly tip-toed out of the kitchen and peered into the living room from a crack in the door.

Harry was purple in the face, screaming at Vernon as I had never heard him scream before. He was pointing at finger at an infuriated Vernon and was shouting so loud, the walls seemed to shake. I wondered why Vernon wasn't saying anything back to the boy, usually it was around now when he would start saying some rubbish like 'you live under _my _roof, boy. You live by _my_ rules', but he wasn't saying anything.

It was then that I spotted Dudley standing behind Harry, a silent figure in the loud room. He was just staring angrily at Vernon and nodding along to what Harry was saying about the mistreatment of Hermione.

I had never been so proud of Dudley as I was of him now.

I had to hold myself back from joining in on the rant against Vernon. I would not, under any circumstances, allow Harry to know how I viewed Hermione – or him, for that matter.

With that, I returned back to the cleaning, still listening to Harry's raised tones, and working on the dishes with a smile on my face.

I turned the water of the shower off and stepped out, wrapping a towel around me. As I began pulling a brush through my stubborn-even-when-wet hair, I heard Harry scream out from below.

My blood turned cold, as my mind ran through every worst possible situation, involving Voldemort finding the house, Harry being tortured – or worse, Harry being killed.

Without further ado, I grabbed my wand from the bathroom sink and ran out of the bathroom, still in only my towel. My still-wet feet slipped a little on the stairs as I made my way down, but I managed to remain upright. My wet hair smacked me in the face as it bobbed side to side as I ran as fast as I could.

I finally made it to the source of commotion – the living room, and saw Petunia disappearing from the kitchen door.

Curious, I peered into the living room, my heart racing at a mile a minute.

There stood Harry, breathing harshly with Dudley standing behind him. I manoeuvred a little to see what they were facing, and with my horror, I saw a dumbstruck Vernon sitting on the sofa. My horror was furthered when I heard that Harry was shouting _about me,_ and how badly he had treated me.

While I was touched by both Harry and Dudley's sentiments, I was mortified that they would actually face Vernon about it. It took me a while to figure out that Dudley must have told Harry what had happened – this result was exactly why I _didn't _tell him. I didn't want to cause any more rifts between the family than I already had.

I marched into the living room, my head held high with pride, despite my less-than-appropriate attire.

The population of the room turned to face me as I approached, all men's eyes boggled as they saw me in my towel and wet hair, water still dripping from my skin. My face flushed a little at the attention, but I had a mission to do.

"Harry, Dudley. Thank you, but I think you've said enough."

The boys just stared at me, their voices seemed to be caught in their throats at the unexpected outfit I was wearing. The silence in comparison to the recent shouting was unnerving.

After a moment, the boys seemed to have regathered their wits. They nodded in unison, and I grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him out of the door. Dudley followed shortly after.

They followed me back up the stairs and I motioned for Dudley to return to his room while I led Harry back to our room.

Once inside, I closed the door and gave him my most exasperated look I could muster, while still maintaining what dignity I could while wearing nothing more than a towel.

"Why did you do that, Harry?" I cried, both annoyed and touched by the boy's chivalry.

"He… he… he… deserved…." Harry spluttered. He still seemed to be unable to put coherent sentences together.

"Yes, yes. But I want you to understand, Harry. I don't want to cause the Dursley's any more trouble than I already have. And you shouting at them like that is probably not helping the family relations."

"Just… Vernon… like… others…"

I thought about that. It was true that Harry seemed closer to both Dudley and Petunia. I remembered that I had seen Petunia go back to the kitchen – had she seen what was happening and decided to ignore it? Did she agree with what they were saying? There was no way to know for sure.

"Hmm… I guess your right… Well, thank you anyway Harry. It's nice to know that you've got my back."

Harry smiled, "Anytime."

There was a slightly awkward pause in which I tried to think of a way of excusing myself to go and change when Harry mumbled something incoherent.

"Hmm?" I said, honestly confused as to what he had said.

"It looks good on you."

"What? The towel?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Er… yes."

I blushed with pleasure and awkwardness. "Um. Thanks, Harry… I guess."

"No… no problem."

"I think I might still go and get changed out of it now though."

"Oh, oh yeah, you do that."

And with that I left to go back to the bathroom, leaving an incoherent Harry staring at the place where I had just left.

As I closed the door, I heard his gruff voice from within…

_Blimey_.


	10. Heroes

**A/N**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine… if only… **

**Thanks so much guys for all the love in your reviews. Keep 'em coming. **

**The basic idea for this chapter was given to my by **_pawsrule,_** so thank you so much! I did adapt the main idea a little, and this is what gives you Chapter 9. **

**Also, for those who asked, this chapter is set on August 15****th****. And yes, I have got every chapter and their dates worked out, so if you ever want to know, feel free to ask and I'll be happy to PM you. **

**Also, someone (I can't remember who, sorry!) suggested more Harry/Hermione time. Your wish is my command. **

**Enjoy!**

_**Chapter 9: Heroes **_

The sun was setting on another beautiful August day.

I walked down Mongolia Crescent hand in hand with Hermione. A _friendly_ gesture, I keep trying to tell myself. I tried not to read anything into the actions that she does. Though, sometimes it seems like she reciprocated my feelings for her – an unnecessary touch of the shoulder, a shy smile, and a laugh at my jokes. Then reality comes crashing back to me, and I realised that there was no way she would ever feel that way. The sooner I accepted that, the better.

"So, you're _absolutely positively _sure?" I asked for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, Harry," she sighed, "I'm sure. Don't shout at Vernon again."

"But he's such a _jerk_!" I whined. "Can't I just do it a _little bit_?"

"No," she said bluntly.

"Oh, Hermione, how you hurt me so! My heart bursts with sorrow to hear you utter these cruel words. Why? _Why?_" I placed my hand upon my chest as though ripping out my heart.

"Shut up Harry, you sound like a really bad Shakespearean character." But the corners of her mouth twitched up in a reluctant smile.

"Ahh, ok I 'spose." I sighed, ruffling my hand through my messy hair in disappointment. "But the _minute_, no, the _second_ you change your mind, let me know."

"I'm not going to change my mind, Harry."

"We'll see… I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be…" I said slyly, glancing sideways at her.

She swiftly punched me in the arm. I guess I deserved that. I had been pestering her with statements like this for days, and her resolve never wavered.

"Though, I would like to know why you stopped shouting so easily. I thought I'd have to jinx you or something to calm you down." She said, looking curiously up at me.

I laughed. "How do you think? You showed up _in a bloody towel!_ That would have shut up anyone. Did you see Dudley's face? No, _Vernon's _face for that matter. He went so red I could have fried an egg on his face."

"Hmm… maybe I should remember that trick for another time. If anyone's annoying me in the common room when I'm trying to study, I'll just strip."

"Looking forward to it."

The words were out before I could process them.

"What?" she asked, looking curiously up at me with a slightly abashed, and could it be… hopeful… expression, "What did you just say?"

"Erm… nothing. Just that… I think it'll work. That's all."

"Oh…" she trailed off, leaving a slightly uncomfortable silence between us.

"Hey, Harry?" Hermione asked hesitantly, "I'm glad that I came here this summer."

I looked over to see her eyes looking into mine with gratitude, the sparkled in their sincerity. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered around so violently, I swallowed convulsively to try to keep them at bay. "I'm glad you came too… Hermione."

The darkness was really beginning to set in over Surrey now, the streetlights had turned on around us and the just visible sun then sank deeper below the horizon. We continued walking peacefully through the night.

The sound of bike tires met our ears and we turned around to see a group of five people approaching us, either walking or on bikes. I squinted through the darkness and discovered that they were, in fact, Dudley's gang, sans Dudley. They seemed to spot us and began to saunter over to us.

"What do you want?" I asked with confidence, my hand twitching towards my wand. These guys had made my childhood a living hell, what I wouldn't do to get one back on them.

They began to yell out taunts to Hermione and me. They got closer and closer.

I reached for my wand, but Hermione grabbed my arm and hissed in my ear, "do you want to get expelled? We've been through this before, Harry, people never seem to believe you when you say you were in genuine danger."

As much as I hated to admit it, I knew she was right. If I wanted to stay at Hogwarts, I couldn't use magic. It was then I felt how much smaller I was then Dudley's gang. All members of the wrestling team, they towered over me. Quiddich player I may be, but I was a seeker, the light and nimble player on the field. 'Brawny' was not a word used to describe me. And there were five of them, against Hermione and me, who without the aid of magic, were just two teenagers way out of their comfort zone. We didn't stand a chance.

"Hermione, we have to _move_. Just run." She sense the urgency in the situation and nodded briskly up at me.

We turned to do that, but to our horror, we saw that even more were approaching us from behind. I knew Dudley's gang had always had it out for me, ever since primary school I was treated as their punching bag, I knew I could handle it. But Hermione, on the other hand, was trembling beside me. Without magic, she was in an even worse predicament as I was. She relied so much on the power of knowledge and intelligence, but this was one situation where that would be of no help to her. I wouldn't let anything happen to her, even if that meant doing something I would later regret.

"What do you want," I shouted at them again, defying my fear with the brave resonance of my voice.

"Nothing in particular," I brawny blonde boy answered, his voice dripping with the pleasure he had in the power of the situation. "Just thought we'd come and see you and your girlfriend. She's pretty cute, too."

I protectively took a stance in front of Hermione, our backs touching as my hand continuously twitched towards my wand, so close, yet due to legal implications, so far away.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" a dark one from behind us said as he came closer. "Mind sharing, do you Potter?"

That comment broke me. I could feel Hermione's tremors rocking both of our bodies. That would _so _not happen. A fury rose in me. Statue of Secrecy be damned, these monsters would _not_ touch her. I reached to my pocket and pulled out my wand, ignoring Hermione's "Harry, no!" and quickly prepared some of the nastiest curses to use, when-

CRACK

A massive figure had swooped in, breaking up the neatly formed circle that was enclosing around us. The figure jumped in and punched the dark guy's nose, causing a stream of blood to come out and a shriek to ensue. It was when the figure turned around to face the other oncoming attackers that I recognised who it was.

Dudley was standing before me, his massive figure emanating power.

"B-Big D?" the blonde boy stammered, shocked by the betrayal of their leader.

"Shut up. Leave them alone. Now." Dudley's truncated sentences seemed to shake the pack.

"W-What do you mean, Dud. You want her?" A red-headed boy to the right said, indicating to Hermione.

Dudley swiftly punched the red-head in the stomach causing him to double over.

"GO! You're disgusting. The lot of you."

With that, they finally left, muttering under their breath.

I didn't know what to say. Beside me, Hermione had stopped shaking as we stared with disbelief at our saviour.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Dudley said roughly, motioning towards the house.

We followed him in silence for a while, before I decided to break the tension.

"Thanks Dud. Think we owe you one."

"Don't worry about it," he said with a nonchalant wave of his hand, "Those jerks had it coming."

"But… don't you worry that they won't take being… umm… _hit_… by their leader?"

"Who cares. Who needs them. I didn't know they were like that. Beating people up, yeah, but _that_. They went too far."

"You can say that again…" I muttered.

"Th-thank you, Dudley." Hermione had spoken for the first time. She was clearly terrified. I had hated standing by just letting her talk about her like that. I would have jinxed them all to hell if they had gotten much closer. I hated that she was frightened.

I placed a comforting arm over her shoulders as we continued on and she glanced up at me gratefully.

"No problem." Dudley said.

We continued to Number Four in silence, Dudley leading the way.

**A/N**

**So what did you think? Too dramatic? Not dramatic enough? **

**Please Review! **


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